


What they seem to be

by FangirlintheForest



Series: Karamel Drabbles [11]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Slight Twist, Train AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:31:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9389318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangirlintheForest/pseuds/FangirlintheForest
Summary: A complete retelling of the Supergirl universe:Alex's plane was never in danger and Kara never revealed herself as Supergirl...Until one day a happenstance meeting with a mysterious stranger on a train changes everything.{Started as a Train AU and idk what it is anymore lmao}





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara meets a stranger and discovers a secret.

She missed her flight.

Kara collapses heavily in a seat near her. She places her head in her hand free of luggage and breaths.

Around her, the hustle and bustle of the airport continues, the people passing by blissfully unaware of her internal struggles.

She sighs. Snapper is going to kill her.

She had finally decided to use up her saved vacation days, expecting a completely relaxing time away from the busy reporter life.

Instead, like an idiot, she forgot to factor traffic of all things into her travel time to the airport for her flight home.

Now, she’s stuck. So much for relaxation.

As she allows herself a few moments to panic, a thought jumps to the forefront of her mind.

She swiftly grabs her luggage and quickly heads to the front of the airport.

Waving down a taxi she dumps her luggage inside and slams the door closed. She pulls out a wad of bills and hands it to the driver.

“The train station, as fast as you can,”

As the taxi pulls away from the curb, the exhaustion of the day catches up, and she finds herself drifting off, floating between dreams and reality.

 

* * *

 

The sky is glowing as the sun sets. The light warms her face and she shuffles, hearing the crinkling sound of leather as she opens her eyes.

The station looks more majestic than it normally would, given the stained tiles and dull tones. But looking at it through the water-stained car window in the setting sun, it almost seems like it was in it’s glory days.

She realises she’s gotten too distracted when the driver taps on her window. She blames it on the stress (really she just had a soft spot for older buildings).

Grabbing her luggage she rushes into the building, opening the metal framed doors and striding to an open ticket counter.

Twenty minutes later she’s back to rushing, this time with a ticket in hand.

Missing her flight is a costly mistake, monetarily and time-wise it turns out. The train ride will be 6 hours total. A small price to pay for her mistake (I guess…).

In the back of her mind, she knows her bank account would beg to differ.

In the true spirit of the day, she barely makes it to the train on time, fumbling and nearly dropping luggage everywhere as she hands her ticket to the unsympathetic attendant by the train entrance.

Leaving her luggage to be taken on board by the staff, she walks up the stairs, the thought of soon being on her way calming her frazzled nerves by a fraction. The next best thing would be sleep.

_Please let there be no one sitting by me._

And like a last nail in the proverbial coffin, there was someone sitting by her.

She shuffles by him as he yawns (he graciously moves his crossed legs) and sits down with a slight thump.

If she hadn’t already had a crappy day, she probably would care that she’s making a terrible first impression to an attractive man.

Not that she noticed how nice he looked in his casual suit and button up or the way his blue eyes are welcoming and pierce through the frames of his glasses.

No, not at all.

She blames it on exhaustion.

She leans back in her seat and she can feel her eyelids closing without permission.

 

* * *

 

The jerking of the train combined with the screechy brakes is what jolts him awake.

He barely manages to grab the armrest in time, nearly slamming into the seat in front of him.

A gasp comes from his left and he feels hands grabbing his arm and pressure lifting from his shoulder.

The woman from before had been…Sleeping on him?

It seemed innocent enough, and she was pretty so he just leaves it at that.

She looks startled, her blue eyes darting around trying to make sense of the situation.

He can see the moment she realizes she’s grabbing his arm. Her eyes get huge and when her cheeks flush a pretty rosy hue, he figures she knows she was sleeping on him.

She drops his arm quickly like it burned her.

He can’t help but smile.

She’s embarrassed and he knows it. She continues staring at him while the conductor’s voice over the speakers informs the passengers they may now exit the train.

Quickly the flustered woman stands up and edges past him.

Casually (he hopes) he places his right arm over the entire armrest and just smiles again as she walks away.

He hopes she didn’t notice the hand-shaped dent in the metal and plastic.

 

* * *

 

The sudden stop shocks her out of her deep sleep.

She’s leaning on and holding something with both hands. It’s warm and nice and comfy and she really doesn’t want to move.

But when the train lurches and the thing moves, she gasps and instinctively tightens her hold, catching herself before gripping too tight.

The last thing she needs is to cause a scene by crushing whatever she’s holding in half.

She sit up, her eyes wander, slightly disoriented. She’s still in her seat and it looks like nothing’s changed, but…

_Wait,_

She stares down at her hands. And her thoughts click in place.

She’s been cuddling with the stranger’s arm in her sleep. And the thing she was leaning on….

She can feel her cheeks blazing.

She lets go immediately.

She looks up at the man and he’s smiling at her in a knowing sort of way.

The voice over the loudspeakers is nothing but background noise to her flustered brain.

_This is so embarrassing._

Faintly she hears that they’ve arrived at the station and she immediately gets up and tiptoes by him trying not to make any more eye contact.

She seriously blames it on the stress.

He shifts, catching her attention for a moment as she gets into the aisle.

She walks away, indulging one last glance at him. He’s still smiling

With something nagging at the back of her mind, she hopes that getting the rest of the way home is easier than what it has been.

It is.

But it’s not until the moment she enters her apartment that she realizes what has been bothering her:

The hand shaped dent she briefly saw on the metal and plastic armrest.

And her eyes widen.

 

 

 

 

 **Come a little closer, then you’ll see**  
Come on, come on, come on  
**Things aren’t always what they seem to be**  
Come on, come on, come on  
Do you understand the things you been seein’  
Come on, come on, come on  
Do you understand the things that you’ve been dreaming  
Come a little closer, then you’ll see

 **COME** **A LITTLE CLOSER - CAGE THE ELEPHANT**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the train ride, old habits resurface as Kara contemplates the mysterious stranger.

 

She's back at the train station again.

 

That wouldn't be so bad except it's the fourth time this week.

 

She knows it sad, and quite frankly borderline pathetic but it can't be helped.

 

As a woman, she's intrigued.

 

As a reporter, she's facinated.

 

She thought she was the only one, she was sure she was the only one.

 

Kara kicks herself inwardly for not being more observant. If she had only turned back around or gotten ahold of herself sooner, things could be different.

 

_I might not be alone anymore._

 

And ever since that day on the train she's been inwardly and silently loosing it.

 

Not only was Snapper in a mood when she got back, now she is being distracted at work by thoughts surrounding a man she didn't say a word to, and who she met for 5 minutes tops. 

 

She wishes her mind would stop running in circles as she adjusts her glasses. It's starting to become inconvenient.

 

And it's really starting to irritate her.

 

But what irritates her more is that she doesn't know who he is.

 

She wants to know who he is.

 

Now she's here, the chatter of passengers filling her ears as she scans the train station from the cold, hard bench where she sits.

 

Her leg is starting to fall asleep, the pin-pricks getting uncomfortable, so she crosses them the other way.

 

The first day she came back she genuinely had hope that she would see him.

 

By day two she knew it was a pipe dream, but that didn't stop her.

 

Now on day four she's come to terms with the facts: that there are literally no other leads. This was the last place she saw him so here she sits and here she will sit until she finds something, anything, leading in the right direction.

 

Honestly, she wants closure.

 

(She shoves away the spark that flames in her chest that slightly dulls the ever-present sting of loneliness.)

 

She has to find him.

 

* * *

 

She indulges herself for another hour before getting up and leaving.

 

She knows she'll be back tomorrow.

 

As she exits she contemplates the situation. She should go back to how things used to be. Quiet, ordinary...human.

 

So why can't she let this go?

 

Krypton is a far off memory, hidden deep in her mind, a time as far away as the stars.

 

But finding someone like her? It's brought back unconscious memories. And reflexes.

 

She had been distracted in the newsroom and to her dismay she had snapped a pen clean in half with her bare hands. Excuses were easy. Next time, however, they weren't.

 

A co-worker had suddenly stopped in front of her as she entered the office. Snatching the doorknob quickly for balance, she failed to control her strength.

 

It seems to her that the crushed doorknob gets mentioned at least once a day.

 

She's slipping. It's almost like he set off a chain reaction in her. She had almost convinced herself she's normal, but now it seems like everything she's been suppressing  for all these years has been brought back to the surface.

 

Waving her hand in the air, she quickly grabs the attention of a taxi. Pulling on the metal handle, she scoots inside. She puts her hand on her head as she sits in the cool leather seat. Confused is a good word for how she feels right now.

 

Why couldn't she have acted normal and just confronted him about it?

 

Looking back at the building, she hopes the thought of him doesn't haunt her for the rest of her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late and short update, the plot bunnies have been relentless and now I'm working on THREE fanfics at the same time!! I hope you enjoyed though. Let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mon-El worries about what the stranger on the train may have seen.

 

Ever since the train ride he's been nervous. And a little paranoid, but he'll be the last one to admit it.

 

What if she saw? What if she figures out his secret?

 

It took him years to adjust to Earth and even now he still slips up sometimes. He's worried he'll walk around a corner and run into her, then it will all be over.

 

It's silly. It's just a silly fear and he needs to get over it.

 

Entering his new apartment, he drops his keys and suit coat on the table. Loosening his tie, he flicks on the lights. He heads toward his mini-fridge, opening it and grabbing a beer. He cracks it open and takes a deep swallow, pausing a second.

 

Nope.

 

Apparently even a beer won't help.

 

He sighs deeply to himself, abandoning the drink on the counter. He wishes he could have a real drink. Unbuttoning his white shirt a little he removes his glasses. If only the world knew the lengths he went to to keep his real identity a secret.

 

He's had enough musing for the evening.

 

Yanking the shirt off the rest of the way, he heads to his bedroom to sleep off worried thoughts of the stranger.

 

 

* * *

 

The bar he works at is one you could classify as 'upscale'. Everything from the bar stools to the lighting looks expensive, and it actually is.

 

As he pours an older, well-dressed couple a pair of extra dry martini's, he reminisces back to the days he worked in skivy bars and didn't know the difference between club soda and vodka. What a difference a few years makes.

 

He hands them their drinks and shoots a charming smile their way.

 

He turns to wipe down the bar with the towel draped over his shoulder and she walks through the door.

 

She looks nice, ( _like last time,_ a little voice in the back of his head comments) and she seems to be looking for someone.

 

Her eyes make a quick pass over the bar and he panics. She's looking for him. He just knows it. 

 

His heart starts pumping too fast and he starts to sweat.

 

He messed up. He  _really_ messed up this time.

 

_No, no, no..._

 

He bumps into the other bartender, Matt, in his hurry to turn away from her.

 

"Sorry, man,"

 

"Hey, are you feeling okay? 'Cause you don't look so good..."

 

Mon-El stops. He's red, sweaty and probably doesn't look great. He'll take the excuse.

 

"Uh, yeah...Yeah, I'm not feeling so great. Do you think you can cover for me?"

 

"Sure thing,"

 

Matt throws him a concerned look before Mon-El turns away, heading for the storage room. He enters, first grabbing his suit coat from the hall. The back door is probably the safest option.

 

He just hopes she didn't see him.

 

The air is cold as he steps into the dimly-lit back alley. He'll have to go around the building to get to his car. Looking around, he starts walking toward the right side of the building.

 

He takes a deep, calming breath in. He's in the clear. There's no way she'll know where he went, even if she did happen to recognize him. He won't see her again.

 

Then the door bangs open behind him.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update within two days? Yay!!
> 
> This seems to be the most popular of all my on-going works so I'm trying to put more effort into it for you guys! As always, let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara stumbles upon what she's been looking for.

It's the end of the week and once again, she's leaving the train station.

She's disappointed. She doesn't want to be.

...But she is.

It's still bothering her, like a switch in her system that's been turned on after years of being idle.

She adjusts her glasses with a frown.

No.

She won't be like this.

She's just going to walk away and never think about it again.

Life has been pretty good, right? She doesn't need to upset the balance, just go with the flow and forget about this metaphorical road block in her path. Yes, that's what she'll do.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in and out.

She needs a drink.

It's a gloomy day outside, with grey clouds overshadowing any hint of sun that may be present.

She has to walk a while before reaching the part of the city which houses the restaurants, and of course, the bars.

She picks the first bar sign she can see in the distance. As she gets closer the sidewalk gets more and more crowded, probably due to it being late afternoon.

She can see it across the street from her now, and it looks fancy, not a place she would normally frequent.

But, her need to drown her thoughts is greater than her internal voice groaning over her near-future spending.

She crosses the road with the rest of the crowd as the crosswalk turns green and the sound of feet stepping through puddles invade her ears.

As she passes the shop right before the bar, she looks up and her eyes meet a familiar figure.

She stops in her tracks and people bump into her as she stands still, staring in shock at him.

He's different this time, with a white, collared dress shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbows, a dark tie, and a black suit coat slung over one shoulder. His back is to her and she's so glad he can't see her staring, just taking him in.

She can't do anything but look at him. She can't believe she found him. Out of all the places she wandered to, she found her way to the one place he was.

She blinks rapidly. This has to be her obsessed mind imagining things.

He walks up to the bar she was going  to, and pushes the door opening with his free hand, entering.

Kara swallows loudly.

Nope, not her imagination.

So of course she retreats to the Chinese restaurant across the street from the bar.

She takes the table next to the window and vacantly orders potstickers when the server comes by.

She doesn't take her eyes off the bar across the street. Watching through the window she's observed a few more people go in dressed the same way her mystery man is. She assumes they all work there.

She crams a potsticker in her mouth and chews slowly.

She knows the reality of the situation hasn't hit yet. It hasn't really sunk in that she's found him.

Then she remembers why she wants to see him.

The brief image of the crushed armrest is practically burned into her eyelids at this point.

No one survived Krypton but her and Clark, she knows that much. So who is he and why is he like her?

If he was a threat he wouldn't be posing as human, but why didn't he try looking for others like him? ( _Why didn't you?_ a little voice in the back of her head pipes up, and she quiets it quickly.)

Enough stalling, she needs answers.

(and yes she's stalling, because deep down she wants to be accepted by him. And rejection is not something she could easily swallow, if at all)

He owes her that much.

Kara shoves the last potsticker in her mouth and pulls out some cash. Standing up, she leaves it on the table and walks into the brisk air.

She walks into the bar and everything is so sleek, shiny, and new. The atmosphere is dark with lights above the bar and individual tables. The wall behind the counter is lined with colorful bottles of different sizes and shapes and immaculately dressed people are milling around, the low hum of quiet conversation filling the air.

Immediately a feeling of being out of place creeps in but she pushes it away. She has a purpose.

The staff are all dressed like him and for a moment she feels pleased for being right.

Her blue eyes cut through the people, but she still doesn't see him. Then a sudden noise from the bar pulls her gaze and she glimpses him darting through a door at the back of the bar.

A frown forms.

She doesn't hesitate before walking around the bar and pushing the door open, ignoring the fuss from the other staff members at her actions.

A dimly lit hallway fills her view and the sound of a metal door ahead clanging shut clue her in to where he's gone.

At the end of the hallway is presumably the door and to her left is the empty break room.

She stops and hesitates again.

Does she really want to do this?

Determination surges up in her chest

_Yes, I really do._

And she shoves the door open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys and Happy (late) Valentine's day! I hope this is enough for you guys, I'm still working on the next chapter (scenes where they argue are so freaking hard to write =_=).
> 
> As always let me know what you think and have a good week!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's found him.
> 
> He's never been so lost.

As _she_ walks through the door, he can see it takes her eyes a second to adjust to the darkness and their surroundings.

He supposes holding deathly still won't keep him from being noticed by her, but he does it anyway.

_Can't she just go away?_

Then she turns to the right and sees him, his startled expression, and his slightly terrified eyes on her.

They just stare.

He guesses he should just cut to the chase.

"So are you going to tell me why you're following me?"

It comes out slightly more defensive than he meant it to. Oh well.

She in turn adopts a defensive expression.

"Are you going to tell me exactly what I saw back on the train?" she shoots right back

_Crap. She noticed._

He cringes slightly and it doesn't escape her notice.

"I saw what you did to the armrest," she accuses, matching right up to him.

He folds his arms and arches an eyebrow in contempt.

"What are you?"

Her eyes are pretty, and blue, but there is an undertone of steel to them that makes him uneasy as she studies him, waiting for a reply.

He does not want to get into this right now, and probably not ever. He hopes she can feel his walls going up.

"Look, I don't know what you're talking about," he replies, purposefully cold this time. "And if you're going to keep harassing me, I'm going to have to call the police. Goodnight."

He turns around and tensely walks the way he was originally going. He just wants to leave, and forget this ever happened and keep living his normal, average, _human_ life.

Then she drops a bomb.

"You can't possibly be from Krypton, so what planet are you from?"

He nearly trips.

"What makes you think that I even know what that is?" He turns and tries to lie but his expression and fake smile gives it away.

She has him.

She doesn't hesitate before striding up to him again, determination gleaming in her eyes.

Looking him dead in the eye she stops, then reaches out to their left where a lone streetlight stands and crumples the metal in her bare hand without blinking or breaking eye contact.

He can feel his face go pale. Her comment about Krypton suddenly becomes much clearer.

He is in a lot more danger than he originally thought.

The streetlight above them flickers for a few moments then steadies, adding an ethereal glow to her blonde hair.

"You don't think I wanted to be normal too? To fit in and try to forget everything that makes me different?" Her voice is quieter now as she gestures to the crushed metal and her hands.

"Who are you?"

He blinks.

"Mon-El,"

It feels like he's smashed a hole in the barrier he's been building all these years between the truth and the life he's built for himself.

She presses forward, unaware of his internal battle.

"Where are you from, Mon-El?"

He takes a few seconds before replying.

"...Daxam."

The look in her eyes confirms what he suspected.

"And you're a Kryptonian." He doesn't mean for his tone to be judgemental, but it bleeds through his words anyway.

She could level a street with the look she gives him.

"I see old rivalries aren't dead, even though our planets are," She raises an eyebrow. Her harsh tones contrast her soft appearance but he doesn't dwell on it.

Something doesn't make sense though. A rising unease starts in his chest.

"Wait," he gestures at her, trying to keep his expression under control. "What do you mean our planets are dead? I knew Krypton was destroyed but Daxam can't be..."

He trails off as he sees her confused expression give way to a sliver of sadness and pity.

"You're lying," He laughs in disbelief, looking away running a hand through his hair. "Daxam...is _not_ gone."

He starts pacing as she tentatively looks on.

"You know the only thing keeping me going was the thought that someday I would be able to find a way off this... forsaken planet and go home,"

His voice gets louder as he falls further into denial.

"And now- you know what? It doesn't even matter! How did it happen?"

Her look breaks into one of full pity and it takes a second before she meets his eyes with hers.

"When my planet died, the solar flares...they....."

She trails off and shuffles a bit. Sadness adorns her features as she studies him, probably waiting for a reaction.

"There's nothing left."

Emotions surge, yet he feels numb.

He supposes he deserves this form of personal hell. She had no idea of the things he's done, the things he's guilty of.

The silence that now stretches between them seems overwhelming.

And like a last piece to the puzzle, it begins to rain.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! The muse has returned and I am back! :D I have ideas for the next few chapters so everything should be falling into place! Let me know what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Food, discussions (more like arguing) and rivalries are brought to light.

She ends up dragging him back to the Chinese restaurant.

His movements are automatic as he follows her across the busy road. The thought of keeping out of sight of his co-workers drifts to the forefront of his mind as they cross the sidewalk, so he keeps an eye out for their familiar faces.

Their clothes are soaked by the time they reach the restaurant. The tinkling of a bell as she opens the restaurant door grates at his nerves. She gets a few curious looks from the the staff as they enter and he briefly wonders why before working on removing his drenched outer jacket.

They're quickly seated by the storefront window and she immediately orders a long list of food. His mind barely catches what she's saying, his thoughts still going round and round in circles.

“ _There's nothing left.”_

Those words echo in his head louder than a gunshot ever could.

He wants to scream.

Suddenly a hand is being waved in front of his face.

“Mon-El?”

He looks up and focuses in on her worried expression. Her blue eyes scan his. Who knew Kryptonians could be capable of such caring? He immediately feels bad. He can see the genuine concern in her eyes.

He supposes she's been through the same situation as him, had to deal with the grief....the loss. Maybe they do have something in common. He feels a twinge of something but ignores it.

Waving a hand dismissively at her, he shakes his head free of the disparaging thoughts.

“I'm... fine.”

He's very aware of how not fine he sounded.

Suspicion clouds her eyes for second, but then to his surprise, returns to normal.

The awkward silence is broken when their waiter comes over to them, bringing the Kryptonian's food. Mon-El zones back out, but is quickly brought back when she kicks him gently under the table, nodding her head slightly in the waiter's direction. As he looks up, he sees the notepad in hand, and the expectant eyes of their server. He reaches down, opening and scrambling to find something, anything, from his neglected menu. After a frantic few seconds, he orders one of the first things he sees: some honey sesame chicken. Over the top of his menu, he can see a bemused look briefly appear on her face before she starts shoveling food in her mouth.

His mother would be appalled.

He nearly chuckles at the thought, but quickly sobers.

Across the table, she pushes a plate away sliding another towards her smoothly and digs in again with her fork. How she can manage to eat so much is a mystery to him. Kind of like everything else about her.

Including her name.

“You know, I never got your name,” he says, startling her.

A wonton wobbles precariously on her fork for a second before plopping down onto her plate.

“It's Kara,” she blurts out after a moment of silence. “Kara Danvers.”

A pretty name for a pretty face. If he were back on Daxam that's all he would have needed before jumping in with the seductive glances and gentle touches. He has a feeling that won't work on her. Nor does he want to. Old habit may be hard to break, but things are much different now.

“Kara,” he says experimentally, her name rolling easily off his tongue. “So why are you on Earth, Kara? I mean, besides the obvious?”

She lifts her eyebrows at him, expression unreadable. “A Daxamite interested in something besides himself. Hm.”

She tilts her head and smiles sweetly at him as she hums, looking him dead in the eye like some sort of challenge before looking back at her wontons. He swears she spears her food passive-aggressively.

She's infuriating.

A seething remark nearly passes his lips but he quickly catches himself as his food is delivered to their table.

As the smell of chicken invades his senses, hunger overrides his need for an appropriate comeback.

He'll save his words for a better time.

 

* * *

 

 

As he forks the last piece of chicken in his mouth fifteen minutes later, he looks up and catches her observing him, a slight frown on her face.

“What?” He doesn't mean for it to come out as sarcastically as it does.

“Didn't your mother teach you manners?”

_That_ stops him.

He's half-temped to throw the truth in her face, to see her reaction when she realizes....

No, he has more self control than that. Withholding that information would be better, a smarter choice.

When he doesn't reply, she looks down at her plate, fidgeting awkwardly. She probably thinks it's a touchy subject. She'd be right. He doesn't dwell on it further. He'd rather not relive those...memories.

He swallows and shakes his head, slowly starting to eat again.

“What about you, Kara? What did your parents teach you?” He raises an eyebrow, pulling a visible reaction from her.

Her shoulders stiffen and she sits up a little taller.

“They taught me honor and respect. Something _you_ should learn, Daxamite.” She throws him a borderline haughty look, and something in him snaps.

He shoves his plate forward and the loud clank causes her to jump.

“Then why are we here? What's the point? Are you just going to sit there and insult me? Is that why you stalked me? To remind me of how much you hate my kind?” he hisses across the table leaning toward her. “How bored are you?” She sits back farther with every word, leaning against her chair looking startled.

“I can't believe this,” he pulls some money out of his pocket and drops it on the table. The chair squeaks loudly making her flinch as he pushes it back roughly. He starts to walk away, but stops as he's about to pass her.

“Don't follow me.”

She's still as the bell violently clangs against the closing door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So basically I'm a horrible person and neglected this fic completely because Plot Bunnies for another fic. Ha.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, in all serious this chapter proved very difficult to write. I suck at dialogue and I'll straight up admit it. But I'm trying so at least that's one redeeming quality lol.
> 
> Let me know what you think! I've already started on the next chapter and it's going smoothly so fingers crossed I get it up faster this time haha


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An intrusion stirs things to light

There's a knock at his door. When he answers and it's her, he's half surprised. How she even found his apartment he doesn't even know. Then he remembers she's a reporter (yeah, he did some digging) and he's right back to not being surprised.

He's taken off guard by her smile, but even more so as she walks right into his apartment with an overly enthusiastic “Hello,” and two plastic grocery bags swinging from her left arm.

Plunging straight by and into his living room, he barely even has time to splutter the start of a weak protest before she's switched on his TV and set the channel to the news.

Setting the remote down, she swiftly moves on into his kitchen and sets the bags on the barstools by the kitchen island. Turning on the island sink, she begins pulling out vegetables until she notices him standing there in shock.

“Are we going to make dinner or not?”

_What?_

She raises her eyebrows expectantly and the corner of her mouth twitches upward.

“Why are you here?” The question leaves his lips before he can stop himself. “Why...why did you find me?” He takes a step forward.

She still hasn't moved, vegetable in hand hovering above the running water.

“Are you stalking me now?”

She looks down, letting out a little sigh, and her arm lowers. Reaching out to turn off the sink, she leans into the counter before opening her mouth.

“You didn't deserve to be treated that way.”

She looks up and catches his gaze. He immediately knows what she's referencing.

“I....I don't even know you. I know nothing about what kind of a person you are and I don't really know how you got here.” Putting down the vegetable she walks around the island and wraps one arm around herself, fingers playing with the beige fabric of her turtleneck sweater.

“And I got nosy and obsessed because I though I found someone,” she stops, smiling sadly. “Someone like me and when you said you were from Daxam I was disappointed. Really disappointed.”

She swallows and drops his gaze. And he turns his head, _really_ looking at her. He'll pretend that didn't sting just a little.

“And I...I treated you horribly. I dropped the weight of your world on your shoulders and I continued to hurt you. I had no right to.”

She looks up again. It's his turn to swallow now. In the dim kitchen lights her eyes seem to glow brighter from behind her glasses.

“I'm really sorry. For all of it.”

They hold each others gazes for a long moment before he finally nods at her.

“I know dinner can't make up for it, but it was worth a shot.” She gestures at the kitchen, smiling and looking embarrassed, absentmindedly reaching up and adjusting her glasses.

His brow furrows, as he considers her words.  He feels a shift in the energy in the room.

“So, what's for dinner?”

Her smile grows into a big grin and maybe he doesn't mind the intrusion so much after all.

 

* * *

 

 

While they chop brightly colored peppers, he find out her favorite food is Chinese, specifically pot-stickers. Which is amusing to him, solely on the fact that they are cooking something that is obviously not that, or Chinese.

He lets out a laugh as she tells him. “Wait, so you're telling me your favorite food is pot-stickers, but we're here making what exactly?”

“Chicken fajitas,” she shoots back, grinning herself.

He snorts in amusement.

“Hey! I didn't know if you even liked Chinese food. Fajita's are universally good.”

“Fajita's are Mexican cuisine. That's not even close to anything Chinese.”

“It's _chicken_. Everyone likes chicken.”

He can't help but be amused. And she laughs right along with him.

He dumps his pepper into a bowl with all the other chopped vegetables. He turns on the sink as she tips hers in too and he takes the chopping board and knife from her. The soap from the sponge he uses froths instantly as he starts to scrub at the tools.

Behind him, he can hear the sizzle of oil as Kara begins cooking the food.

He finishes cleaning the dishes in no time, and quickly begins to start preparing the table.

He gathers up his various belongings strewn haphazardly across the table top and runs them into his room.

Walking back into the kitchen, he apologizes as he reaches in front of Kara to open one of the cabinets above the stove top. Reaching and grabbing plates, he's overwhelmed by the warm spicy smells of the food. As he carries the plates back to the table he catches the hints of another smell, sweet like baked goods and fresh like clean laundry.

As he begins to set the table he brushes those thoughts aside. However he can't help but glance up at the woman in his kitchen.

The dim ceiling lights reflect off her cascading wavy hair as it flows down her back and he pauses. The kitchen is the least romantic place for this kind of thinking.

And honestly, it takes him a long moment to remember that she's a _Kryptonian,_ and they're barely getting off on the right foot. Barely.

It's not because he's attracted or anything. Not that he slightly enjoys the way she argues with him or the way she purses her lips when she's thinking too hard or he's done something to annoy her. Or her smile and the way her blue eyes light up...

Comets. They remind him of comets that he would view from the highest room in the palace back on Daxam, when he would need to get awa-

He swallows hard, shaking his head and setting down the last cup.

He can't afford to keep having thoughts like this.

He realizes he's hit a point of no return. Deep, deep down he knows there's no way anonymity and he will be acquainted anymore. She careened, no...more like nuzzled her way into his life.

He remembers more of that day on the train that she could possibly know. He was hyper aware of every detail the moment she sat down next to him and it was nothing short of a miracle that he managed to fall asleep at all.

The hyper awareness and borderline paranoia has faded as time has passed but the tense feeling... its almost freshly renewed every time she's near. He's noticing a pattern.

She places the food on the table in front of him with a thunk, causing him to jump. She smiles at him.

“You ready to eat?” She claps her hands together.

He recovers quickly, shooting a smirk her way. “Forever and always,”

They simultaneously pull out their respective chairs and a knot forms in his stomach.

 

* * *

 

 

It definitely wasn't the worst meal he's ever had. In fact, it was pretty delicious. The chicken was tender and so were the vegetables and the entire meal was probably the most delicious thing he's eaten in a long time.

However that knot would not. go. away.

By the time they start cleaning up his smiles are all forced and he has to make himself think of banter to her quick witted responses.

By the time she leaves he's more troubled than ever.

He ends up going to bed hours after she's gone with a frown on his face.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well you all can shoot me because this chapter is up so late!! However it's long so I hope that helps hehe. It kinda just kept going and going and going...... :p
> 
> However on the plus side, I kinda have an idea on the rest of the plot!! Yay! :D I think writing the rest of this story will be a bit easier now.
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interesting morning encounter occurs

He wakes up tangled in his sheets. The air is chilly and he moans in protest, refusing to look at the clock. Patting around with his right hand, he has no luck in locating the blanket. He sighs.

His right shoulder throbs. He probably slept on it wrong. He tries to relax himself and melt deeper into the mattress but it's too late. He's awake.

Groaning and running a hand down his face, he pushes himself up off the warmth of the mattress and rolls over, sitting up. He stalls, sitting with his feet hanging off the side of the bed for a few moments.

It's going to be one of _those_ mornings.

Lurching off the bed in a sudden display of motivation, he reaches for the drawers of his dresser and pulls out some clothes. He haphazardly puts them under his arm and makes his way to the shower. Maybe that will wake him up.

When the hot water hits his back minutes later, the sleepiness in his eyes is gone, but the heaviness of exhaustion lingers even after the water is turned off.

He wraps a towel around his waist and wipes a hand across the fogged glass of the bathroom mirror. As he leans on the sink, he gazes at his reflection.

He has bags....dark, noticeable bags under his eyes.

As he gets dressed he counts himself lucky that he has the afternoon/evening shift today at the bar. If it was any earlier....

Padding into the kitchen, he looks around for a pick-me-up, and finds nothing.

He's not a coffee drinker....but this morning he may just have to be.

Quickly grabbing his jacket, before he can change his mind, he grabs his keys and walks out the door.

 

* * *

 

As soon as he steps outside his apartment into the noisy city, he realizes he has no idea where to even start.

_Where does one get coffee around here anyway?_

He holds back a groan as he closes his eyes and tilts his head up. The high-pitched noises of cars honking and passing screech against his ears, coupled by the chattering noise of pedestrians. He squeezes his eyes together even more tightly. Again, it's one of those mornings.

He picks the direction down the sidewalk to his left and starts walking.

 

* * *

 

 

He walks three blocks without a coffee shop to be seen. He can feel his nerves wearing thin with every step he takes down the sidewalk. Not to mention it's cold due to how overcast the weather is. He stops in the middle of the sidewalk and looks up, squinting angrily at the light gray clouds. What a morning.

He'll give it one more block before he decides to walk back, and maybe get a drink on the way home. He'll need it if that point comes.

Looking back down, he decides on a whim to cross the street. He bangs on the button that signals the crosswalk. The sharp cold of the metal freezes his hands and he quickly shoves them into the pockets of his coat as he steps into the road as the light turns green.

He fights his way down a half-block more before the cafe catches his view.

It's like a haven in the middle of downtown. The wood siding stands out from the rest of the cement buildings in the same strip and it practically exudes warmth as he looks at it.

He finds his feet moving of their own accord toward the end of the strip.

It's early enough that there aren't many people, only a few lingering in line as he pushes open the door. It's a cozy place, pastries in displays to the left of the register with employees rushing around preparing orders behind the counter. The menu is hanging from the ceiling, neat writing on a chalkboard in curly handwriting. The smell of baked goods is intermingled with the rich smell of coffee and he already feel slightly more awake.

The woman at the register walks away with a receipt and the line shuffles forward.

A beam of light suddenly shines from the windows to the left, illuminating the ground in a long strip and shining up to the ceiling, lighting up the side of his face.

He closes his eyes for a brief second, leaning his head slightly back again, this time for a different reason. He basks in the warmth. He can feel the sensation spreading from his face down his neck toward the rest of his body. He can literally feel himself recharging. He has a special love for Earth's yellow sun and especially more so today.

“Sir,” He opens his eyes at the remark from the cashier in front of him

“Sorry,” He steps up to the counter and smiles at her.

Glancing at the menu he orders an Espresso. He has no idea what that means but it sound like what he needs. The cashier smiles at him as she rings him up and he pays for his drink.

He's about to go stand a distance away so the next person can order when another girl from behind the counter hands him his order, with a big smile and a flush on her cheeks.

He smiles at her too and thanks her, giving a blanket complement on how fast the service is.

As he turns he drops the smile. Once upon a time he would have thoroughly enjoyed attention, but it hits too close to home. It reminds him too much of his old way of life on Daxam, and...and a time he's worked for years to put behind him.

He takes a sip of the hot beverage as he turns, heading for the door when his enhanced hearing picks up a stifled gasp from his right.

He stops, turns and sees an all-too familiar mane of long blonde hair facing away from him at a table on the other side of the room. Her legs are oddly placed to the side and he can see her back is stiff.

He almost snorts. She was probably getting up to leave when she spotted him. Rao, how much more is the universe going to throw his way?

He can't just leave now. He could...but he won't. He sighs.

He turns on one foot and walks over to where she is sitting, pulling out the chair opposite her and sitting down in one swift movement.

She looks up.

“Are you stalking me now?”

He almost laughs out loud. Of course she would throw that back in his face from last night and he can't help but smile.

A smile grows on her face too and she adjusts in her chair to face him.

That feeling abruptly comes back. That rough feeling in his stomach that causes his heart to race....

He almost doesn't mind.

Almost.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tis I, updating another one of my sadly neglected works!! I was super stuck on this one because I had only prepared for the first chapter and have been pretty much winging it since haha...ha.ha.ha.. o_O
> 
> Anyway, I have had an epiphany as to where the plot will go, so I'm gonna do my best to juggle updates with the rest of my ongoing works!
> 
> As always, let me know what you think. Your feedback is appreciated more than you know! :) See you soon!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More coffeeeeee and contemplationnnnn

“So what brings you here?” Kara gestures around at the cafe.

He gestures at her with his coffee. “It's been a long day,”

She smiles, confused. “Mon-El, it's only nine in the morning.”

His face must be showing his annoyance at this new revelation because she half snorts, shoulders hunching.

He shakes his head, her reaction pulling a resigned smile from his grumpy mood and he covers it (he hopes) by taking a giant swig of coffee.

The instant it hits his tongue he remembers why he never drinks coffee.

The giggles from across the table intensify. He's frowning now. How can she be so awake? A little grumble escapes as he curses the hour internally.

“Well, I hate to leave you and your.. _ beloved _ beverage,” A smirk forms as she talks and he sighs heavily through his nose. “But I have a job to get to.”

She stands, scootching the metal chair back to the table.He hates himself for feeling even the slightest bit of disappointment about her statement. Rao, he’s known her, what? All of two days? Less, technically?

When did he become this complicated?

He nods at her, acknowledging her statement. He remembers to throw in a smile at the last minute. It seems to be good enough for her, and she throws him a quick wave a smile before turning and walking away and out of the coffee shop. All he’s left with is the ghost of her smile and yellow dress.

Maybe he doesn’t mind coffee as much as he thought.

Kara did not expect to see hi- Mon-El this morning. As she walks down the busy streets of the city, on her way to Catco, she ponders their interactions so far.

* * *

Honestly it’s been a lot of yelling, anger, and accusations. However, it’s also been smiles and interesting conversations and comfortable silence. She doesn’t know what to make of it, or him, yet.

Kara’s still thinking about it when she takes the elevator up to her floor.

She goes through work in a daze and no matter how hard she tries to concentrate, thoughts of him keep popping up in her head. It's infuriating. But...she can't stay mad. He's a reminder of who she is, and where she comes from and anger has no place there.

She slumps a little against her desk and sighs deeply.

Her fingers start to tap a rhythm with her pen.

_ Damn him. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update! A miracle!! XD I may have a social life right now so yeah...that's cool?? xD
> 
> Anyway let me know what you think and as always thanks for stopping by!! :D


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